“He was the only one who never had a problem. He messed up maybe three times his whole life, and it was just because he was excited about something. Meanwhile my parents deadnamed me for years. I never understood why Vinnie got it so easily, but they couldn’t.”
I can see Ramiro squeeze Rocky Horror’s hand tighter. “Because Vinnie loved you.”
Cara and I share a glance and smile at each other. Something passes between us—a telepathic message that says these two should have some time together alone—so I wait a few moments before I take a page from Taylor’s book and fake a yawn.
“I should probably get some sleep.”
Cara stands. “Me too.”
Ramiro turns his attention back to Rocky Horror. “I’m going to stay up for a bit—I’m kind of a night owl. Would you mind if I left you all here? I’ll make my own fire over there.”
He points to the truck a little farther away.
“Can I join you?” Rocky Horror asks.
“I would love it if you did.”
We say good night to them, Cara and I trying our hardest not to let on that we’re whispering behind their backs about how cute they are together.
“Why Señor Helado?” Rocky Horror asks as they gather some wood to make a smaller fire separate from us. “You’d get the alliteration if you went with Señor Softie.”
“Sir!” Ramiro says. “No one haseverreferred to me as soft.”
“Holy shit!” I whisper to Cara. She immediately falls into a fit of giggles that she has to smother in her sleeping bag. I try to hide my own laughter as well. Several times throughout the night, I wake up to throw more wood on the fire. Each time, I can hear Rocky Horror and Ramiro talking quietly by the truck.
The next morning, Hector and the Kid are up before the sun. I hear Ramiro whisper something to Hector. Even with no real Spanish vocabulary, I recognize the sound of an older sibling scolding a younger one.
I get up with them and the three of us go to where Hector says there’s a stream. I fill up the water bottles and they help carry them back to the camp, where the others are beginning to stir, including Rocky Horror, who wipes his face, clearly exhausted.
“You two were up late,” I whisper as I set down a pot on the side of the fire and fill it with water.
“Hmm” is all he says. “Gotta pee.” With that he gets out of his sleeping bag and heads into the woods.
Hector pulls at Ramiro’s arm and points to his lips. Ramiro bends down and gives his brother a kiss, saying good morning. Then he turns his attention back to us. “I have something I have been saving for a special day, and I think meeting new friends makes this the perfect occasion.”
He turns and heads back to the truck.
“Oh, please let it be a bottle of prosecco,” Amy prays. Sadly, Ramiro returns with a giant can in his hands.
Freeze-dried bacon and eggs. The can says there are nine servings in it.
“Holy shit!” Amy yells. “It’s better than prosecco.”
Ramiro tsks. “Hardly. Oh, I’d kill for a mimosa.”
We boil the water and wait for it to rehydrate the eggs. I’m halfway through my own bowl before I realize I need to savor this. It’s salty and hot and delicious. And honestly, when I’m finished, I feelamazing. Completely rejuvenated.
While the rest of the drinking water boils, Rocky Horror crouches next to me. “Can I talk to you?”
Here it is. The “can we ask them to join us” talk. And it’s going to be a quick talk because, yes, absolutely.
But that’s not what Rocky Horror asks. In fact, he doesn’t ask me anything at all.
He says, “I’m going to go with Ramiro and Hector.”
My stomach drops and I stare at him.
“I already know what you’re thinking and, trust me, I thought it, too, for the last several hours. But there’s something here. I was never the kind of person who believes in fate or God moving us around like chess pieces, but this all seems to fit too well.Wefit too well. Like maybe with fewer people in the world, there are more chances for divine intervention.”
